


Wouldn't It Be Nice

by psilostashya



Series: A Teenager In Love [3]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: 60s AU, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders is a Sweetheart, Background Logicality - Freeform, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders Are Twins, Developing Relationship, Human AU, M/M, No Period Typical Homophobia, Not a lot though, Patton and Logan are Virgil's parents, Perverted Thoughts, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Roman's just a mess, Smitten Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Yearning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:34:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22397902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psilostashya/pseuds/psilostashya
Summary: After making a fool of himself, Roman decided he needed a new approach— because reciting sonnets obviously wasn't working.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders
Series: A Teenager In Love [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1600108
Comments: 126
Kudos: 173





	1. What To Do

* * *

Ice cream at his cousin's house was typically a joyous and easygoing part of Roman's day. Seated on the kitchen's barstools, a large banana split shared between him and Valerie, it was times like these the two would laugh and converse about their day— all while pausing to shove a thumb to the roof of their mouths, forcing back brain freeze. 

The banana-split-hang-outs started some time in Roman's sophomore year, the day after he had gotten his braces. The cold helped numb the pain in his mouth and was a welcomed treat, distracting him from the new metal hooked to his teeth and the self consciousness he got from them. 

"Oh, God, Valerie, it was awful!" Roman exclaimed, hands thrown up and brows pinched, a desperate, anguished gleam in his eyes.

The cousins' ice cream hangouts weren't always led with laughter and jokes, at times it was a mini therapy session— complaining about homework, certain, irking peers, flaring up acne, a bitchy teacher— and in Roman's case—

"He looked at me like I was an alien!" he cried, hunching over and holding his forehead in his hands. 

Valerie simply hummed a sound in an urge for Roman to go on, shoving a spoonful of strawberry ice cream into her mouth. 

Roman didn't need further prompting, picking his head up and declaring loudly, "At first I thought it was because there might have been something in my braces— but I checked and there was nothing there." he paused to get a spoon of ice cream for himself, "Turns out I'm just a weirdo." 

Roman's eyes softened, drifting to the kitchen's bright yellow wall, "I should have went with Sonnet 75."

Valerie's face twisted in sympathy, "Aw, come on." she nudged his shoulder, "I'm sure it wasn't _that_ bad."

Roman's glum demeanor didn't improve, if anything he became more melodramatic. "No really, Val." he said, swallowing a mouthful of Rocky Road. "You should have seen his face, he looked so confused. God, and in third period! He looked so wigged out." 

Virgil had also looked _very good_ , as always in Gym— Roman's awful, debauched brain reminded him— laid back on the bleachers, pale skin shining in the sunlight, leaving red bites on his cheeks and the bridge of his nose (the red was always quick to fade— Roman had seen Janus slap aloe vera on Virgil's face many times), clad in his gym shorts that _definitely_ didn't pass the fingertip test— something Roman's wandering eyes wouldn't let him forget. 

"I'm not surprised." Valerie said, bringing Roman out of his current fantasy (one that included Virgil's pale, creamy thighs and slender legs), "Have you ever actually talked to him before?"

Roman flushed, leaning his head in his hand as he swirled his side of the bowl into sugary mush. "Well, no." he said, "Not exactly _talked._ "

The brief conversations from earlier still had Roman reeling— the fluttering, swooping feeling in his chest that Virgil had been the cause of. Because Virgil had _spoken_ to him. Not a quick 'hello' to humor Roman, or a 'is Remus busy?' that sometimes greeted him when he answered his front door. No, Virgil honest to God _spoke_ to him, of course, Roman had initiated it— but that added a proud thrill if not a tinge of longing for reciprocation. 

The point was: Roman engaged with Virgil— and it was messy and strangled and Roman had made a complete fool of himself.

"And you jumped right into reciting Shakespeare?" Valerie asked, tacking more to the list of Roman's building shame.

Roman's already flushed face got darker, threatening to blend with his turtleneck. He groaned, "He must think I'm a total geed."

So much for trusting Remus. His brother had given him hope, made him think he had a chance. Roman should have known it was all in jest— teasing, mockery; that's what it was, wasn't it? To think Virgil would ever say such a thing. To believe someone so apprehensive and easily perturbed as Virgil, would tell Remus— loose lipped, can never keep a secret, Remus— about who he found attractive. Not only that, but to believe _Roman_ was on the list of people Virgil found attractive. It would make Roman laugh if it hadn't squeezed his heart as well.

"Maybe not!" Valerie tried, hand coming up to rest on Roman's shoulder, "You just… came on too strong, that's all. I'm sure he was just put off by the sudden change— he just wasn't expecting it!"

Roman supposed his cousin had a point: it was a mighty shift in his and Virgil's dynamic— swiftly snapping from awkward greetings, to even more awkward attempts at flattery.

It was still no less ignominious though.

"Like he'd ever want to talk to me after— after _that_." he huffed and swallowed a spoonful of melting ice cream, "God, what should I do?"

"You know what your problem is?"

The two turned their heads to the kitchen's archway door, Valerie's mother— Roman's aunt— standing there with an amused yet earnest look on her face.

Roman leaned across the granite countertop, imploring his aunt, "What should I do?" he asked, aspiration swelling up inside him.

"You're thinking too much!" his aunt chastised, "All this worrying nonsense. Back in my day you walked right up to who you liked and said so." she said, crossing her arms, "Sure saved a lot of time fussing, that's for sure." she gave a firm nod, nose in the air pridefully.

Roman stared at his aunt for a beat before turning back to his cousin, "Valerie, what should I do?" 

His aunt clicked her tongue, shaking her head before taking her exit, leaving the kids to themselves.

Toying with the love beads on her wrist, she pensively pondered, "Well," she said, "try talking to him more— without reciting any sonnets. Just be yourself, let him get to know you." 

Roman frowned, "What if I just freak him out again?"

"Would you rather give up completely?"

The question seeped into Roman's brain like dirty water to a sponge— giving up on Virgil, tossing out any semblance of a real life romance with him. Dropping his dreams of acting on his pent up longing. Never putting in the effort— never mustering up the courage. The hardihood to outwardly amend Virgil on his beauty, to take his hand in his, to touch his fluffy hair, to stare into his deep, bewitching eyes. To tell Virgil how much he liked him.

Roman sighed, stabbing the thawing banana in the bowl with his spoon, "No…"

"There you go." Valerie smiled, giving him another pat on his shoulder, "Just talk to him."

Roman nodded, "Okay… but about what?"

"Uhm… hmm." Valerie joined Roman in gauging the banana, "Try asking Remus— he'll know—"

"Oh, no way." Roman dropped his spoon to the counter with a clutter, "He's the one that told me I had a shot to begin with. He'll just mock me and lead me on again."

Valerie giggled but quickly covered it with a cough, "Sorry. Okay; doesn't he like cars, like Remus?"

Roman wasn't completely sure, and even so, "I don't know anything about cars."

"Compliment him?" she suggested.

Roman sighed, "That would just be a repeat of earlier."

"Ask him for help with your homework."

"We only have gym together."

"Invite him over for dinner."

"Ha!" Roman blurted.

"Come on, Roman!" Valerie huffed, shoving him lightly. "I'm trying."

Roman relented, shooting his cousin an apologetic look, "I know, I'm sorry." 

Valerie merely huffed, leaning against the counter and gazing up at the island's overhanging lights thoughtfully. "I don't know, Roman."

"Why does this have to be so difficult?" Roman complained aloud. 

Nothing seemed right— nothing good enough, undeserving of Virgil's time. It was all so frustrating. Roman wished it was as easy as his aunt made it to be— he would love to walk up to Virgil and lay all his cards out on the table, tell him right there: that Roman was incontestably smitten with him. 

And Virgil would smile his sweet smile— not his lopsided grin he gave when being sarcastic or joking with friends (not that Roman didn't find it charming, too), but an honest, open smile. They would hold hands, fingers laced and palms flushed. They would pull each other closer, a tug on each others' grip, urging to close their short distance. Roman wouldn't be nervous, brushing his knuckles against Virgil's cheek, feeling the quirk of Virgil's smile and the softness of his skin. 

Stepping up on his toes, Virgil would lean up, tilting his head back _just_ _so_ as Roman would lean down, closer and closer— eyes slipping shut until—

"I got it!" Valerie shouted, shaking Roman from his daydream with a jolt. "The drive-in!" she said exuberantly, pointing a finger at Roman.

"What?" Roman questioned, catching his bearings from being snapped from his previous thoughts. "Drive-in?"

"There's a drive-in this Friday down at the clearing by Saddle Creak!" she clapped her hands, her bracelets jingling on her wrists, "Ask Virgil to go with you!"

Roman blanched, letting the suggestion seep in, mulling it over thoroughly. "The drive-in…" 

Drive-ins almost always guaranteed movies along the horror genre, if not, then cheesy romance. Either way, one of them would be satisfied. He could borrow his mother's car; he could pack their own snacks; maybe bring blankets in case it got cold. 

A movie meant minimal talking— minimal chances of Roman making a fool of himself, less likely to word vomit and compare Virgil to a summer's day. More likely to reach over the center console and hold Virgil's hand. They could make small talk about the movie— an easy conversation starter, and if not a starter then something to fall back on. 

It was simple; genius— a date that could be seen as a platonic outing if Virgil wished it to be. An easy request in company, the perfect first step.

Roman turned to his cousin and commended her on her brilliance, to which she rolled her eyes at and waved him off. 

Roman was practically bouncing in his seat as he went over all the preparations in his head— before falling short.

He still had to _ask_ Virgil to the drive-in.


	2. Poor Little Fool

* * *

Planning and rehearsing was how Roman spent the rest of Monday. Holed up in his room, hand mirror clasped in hand, Roman formulated as many scenarios as he could, even the bad ones (which Roman shook away in determination. He would ask Virgil to the drive-in— he would ask him, and it would go fine. Even if Virgil declined his offer, that would be fine. It would hurt like the dickens, yes, but Virgil wasn't a malicious person, and would turn Roman down gently, he knew this. Which was why it would do Roman no good to think about negative outcomes).

He focused heavily on the much more wonderful (possible) outcomes. Starting with Roman's proffer going according to plan— catching Virgil alone, ask him how he was, make small talk, _then_ bring up the drive-in. Slide the idea into play carefully, perhaps with a phrase along the lines of: 'Oh, hey, did you hear about that drive-in on Friday? Yeah, at Saddle Creek.' then Roman would suggest they go together, and the rest would go accordingly. 

Roman would ask his mother to borrow her car, which he would use to transport him and Virgil to Saddle Creek— where their date (or not-date) would commence in perfect bliss. 

Drinking soda pop and sharing a box of Mike and Ike. Maybe they could share a soda, too; a large drink of Virgil's choice, two bendy straws popped in the top ( _or one straw_ — he vanished the thought before it fully formed, cheeks growing pink at the idea). 

Roman could already tell the movie would be white noise; no doubt his eyes would drift to Virgil on their own accord. How could they not? With Virgil sitting next to him, handsome and glowing in the moonlight; maybe Roman could gain enough courage to voice so aloud. Maybe Virgil would blush, all pretty and pink. And maybe Roman could lean over the center console, into Virgil's seat, tilting Virgil's chin up with his thumb and forefinger. Closing their distance, Roman could kiss him softly— tenderly as he poured every ounce of pent up desire into it.

His planning for such a perfect moment had been thwarted, however, as Remus decided it would be an excellent time to barge in without knocking.

This left Roman sitting with his arms crossed, glaring at Remus defiantly as his brother stood in the middle of his room, hunched over— cackling and goading Roman mercilessly. 

He straightened up just enough to fling the back of his hand against his forehead, "Oh, Virgil, you're so pretty!" Remus bellowed in an awful impression, "Let me hold you and kiss your pretty face forever!" he pretended to swoon, flopping down on Roman's bed dramatically.

Roman huffed, his face burning in agitation, "You're never gonna let this go, are you?"

Remus sat up, answering him by batting his eyes and puckering his lips, "Mwah, mwah, mwah!"

Roman shoved him away, twisting his body and sitting in the opposite direction as his brother. He gripped his hand held mirror with a tight grip, face hot, "There's a thing called knocking." he said evenly, trying to salvage some of his remaining dignity. 

"Aww, I'm sorry." Remus apologized, not sorry in the slightest. "Did I interrupt your time with the mirror?"

Roman's head snapped to his brother, "You weren't supposed to see that!" he leered.

Remus fell into more uproarious laughs, holding his stomach as tears pricked his lashes.

Roman rolled his eyes, rubbing the smudge off his mirror with his sleeve. "Do you need something?" he asked curtly, trying to divert the subject. 

Remus took a moment, but he eventually calmed down enough to speak, "Well I came in to say hey," he said, "and ask about how you talked to Virgil." he grinned and leaned back on his elbows, "I wanna hear it from your perspective."

"I…" shame and unnecessary betrayal curled itself in Roman. He cleared his throat, "Did Virgil talk about what I…?"

"No, but Remy did." Remus filled in, "Virgil just got all red and avoided talking about it."

Roman breathed a sigh of relief. Relief that was short lived as he mulled over what Remus said. Virgil got red? If it was in discomfiture or possible rage, Roman didn't know. He went with the former, hoping his interaction with Virgil didn't warrant any anger— or at least, not enough to turn Virgil's face red.

"What did Remy say?" he asked, already dreading the answer.

"He was just talking about how fucking awkward it was." Remus said, then mocked, "Hi, Virgil! How are you? Oh, I'm doing good too!" his face dropped to being devoid of emotion, staring Roman in the eyes theatrically.

"It wasn't that bad!" Roman argued before throwing his hands up, "And it's your fault anyway! you're the one that told me to talk to him!"

"I didn't think you'd suck at it so bad!" Remus retorted frivolously.

"Did he ever even call me cute?" Roman crossed his arms, "Or did you only say that to make me talk to him?"

"A little bit of both." his brother admitted, and at Roman's glare, he relented, "Okay," he said, "so it turns out Virgil doesn't remember saying that— but he did! I didn't lie, he just doesn't remember."

(The confirmation didn't ease Roman's nerves any. So Virgil had thought he was physically appealing at one point. Opinions change about people— especially when having the privilege of said person spewing nonsense at you.)

"And you needed a fire under your ass— not my fault you can't talk to him."

"God, shut up." Roman grumbled.

Remus eyed him, "I feel like you're t'eed off." he said.

"Yes!" Roman raised his voice, "Very!" 

"I was trying to help!" his brother implored earnestly.

"Well," Roman faltered, face scrunched up in frustration, "bang up job there!"

"Jesus, man." Remus sighed, tension leaving his shoulders, "Look, I'm sorry, I guess. I was just trying to help." 

Roman looked at his brother, taking in the apology heedfully. A part of him wanted to stay upset, to throw blame at Remus for making Roman act so cretinous in front of Virgil. He knew that wasn't fair of him, that it was his own actions, and subsequently, his own fault. It wasn't honorable to hold Remus accountable for something Roman had control of. 

Remus was merely trying to give him a good shove towards Virgil. Even though that shove was straight into Virgil— Roman stumbling and tripping and falling face first into the— he took a deep breath. 

It was no secret that the Rivera twins were both hot-headed. The two were always challenging and prodding one another. They could bicker and argue for hours, neither of them letting up— only seizing when the both of them would forget what they were fighting out to begin with. Apologies between them weren't as frequent.

A part of Roman wanted to slap the olive branch out of Remus' hand and turn away. But he knew that would do no good, and at this point Roman was mostly angry for the sake of being angry. 

He huffed, "I'm sorry I flipped out." he conceded.

Remus waved it off, "It's whatever."

With the air cleared, Roman felt a little better. He was still moderately upset with how things went with Virgil, but that was predominantly leaning on himself now. 

Roman almost wanted to let Remus in on his new idea, to tell him about the drive in and ask for some input (even though it wouldn't likely be good, but he still wanted to bounce some ideas). 

But Remus beat him to it, "Anyway," he said, "I only came in to make fun of you." he stood up and gave a lazy stretch, "So I'll leave you alone to your mirror."

Any consideration in letting Remus in on the plan dissipated. He jumped to his feet, "Shut up!" 

"Oh, Virgil!" Remus started, back to his impression of Roman, "You kiss _so_ good!"

"Out! Out! Out!" Roman chanted in a shout, shoving his little brother toward the door, "Go away!"

"Really, Virgil?" Remus let out in a guffaw, "Are you sure you wanna go—" his face went serious, voice morphing to faux shyness, "you wanna go _all the way_ —"

Roman's face burned bright red, with one rough push he screeched, "GET OUT!" 

Remus chortled uncontrollably, not fighting as he was forced out of the bedroom, the door slamming behind him.


	3. That'll Be The Day

* * *

Bustling hallways, students traveling to and from classes in a practiced order. Despite the practiced order, many didn't take consideration in others: stopping in the middle of the hallway to talk with friends, walking on the wrong side of the hall, doing a quick u-turn and interrupting the flow. 

Roman and his friends stood off to the side, leaning against the lockers as Valerie retrieved her Biology textbook.

"The drive-in?" Roman's friend, Kai, questioned, "Isn't that, like, a make out invitation?"

"What?" Roman questioned, staring at his friend incomprehensibly.

Kai shrugged, "You might as well just ask him to slip you ton—"

"Or," Elliot interjected upon seeing Roman's horrified expression, "he could see it as Roman asking him to watch a movie with him. As a friend, or a date." they turned to Roman, smiling kindly, "It's a good idea, don't listen to him."

Roman beamed, "As much as I'd love to, I can't take credit." he gestured to his cousin, "It was Valerie's idea."

"I'm just glad you're finally bucking up and asking him." Valerie teased, brushing off Roman's plaudit. "I thought you'd be stuck, following him around like a puppy, forever."

"Hey! I don't do that!" 

Kai crossed his arms, raising an unimpressed brow, "Uh-huh, sure."

"I don't!" Roman protested, hands on his hips defiantly.

Kai opened his mouth to retort, only Elliot cut in: hands in their skirt's pockets, they inquired, "When are you gonna ask him?"

At the question, Roman puffed up proudly, finger raised as he readied himself to shine his ingenious plan. He had gone over how he would ask Virgil out, thoroughly; most of the previous afternoon and evening was spent rehearsing. His proposition was thought out, ready to go at the moment's notice. Only… Roman drew a blank on when that perfect moment would happen. 

"I…" his hand fell to his side, "I don't know." he said quietly, feeling his master plan crumble. 

"You don't know?" Kai pressed. 

"I guess…" Roman wracked his brain for a good retort— or at least a decent answer, "whenever the right time arises." he finished, the response open but still assessed.

"Really?" Kai asked, "Or are you gonna chicken out _again_?"

Roman crossed his own arms, nose in the air insolently. "I know it may be _hard to believe_ that I have a plan—" Kai scoffed— "But I do." he pointed a finger to his friend, "Next time I see him, I'll ask him— and you'll see."

"Sure." Kai said before looking over Roman's shoulder. A devious smirk stretched across his face, "You know what?" he asked, "Okay."

With that, and a firm shove to Roman's shoulders— he was stumbling into the middle of the hall. Almost losing his footing, he caught himself— just short from running into many different people. He righted himself, standing up straight and about to turn to shout at Kai. All thoughts of telling his friend off, however, was put on hold as Roman's stomach dropped. As he was standing nose to nose with the _worst_ person to nearly run into. 

"Sup, Roman?" Virgil questioned, taking a step back, the two of them _so_ close to touching.

Roman fell slack jawed— heart thudding wildly, he gaped at the other. Any sensical thoughts flew right out of his head, lost to the crowd. 

Roman couldn't recall ever being so close to Virgil, even with said person stepping back to put distance between them. His brain was close to short circuiting as he looked down at Virgil. He opened his mouth, words formulating on the tip of his tongue. "I— I, uhh." his mouth clamped shut. He bit down on the inside of his cheek. 

Virgil's big doe eyes blinked up at him curiously. Rich irises— so deep Roman couldn't tell where the pupils began; blending so well. His eyes were framed with thick, ebony lashes— curlicue and lengthy, bottom rows gently touching dark circles that extended below his lavish eyes.

Before Roman knew it, he was speaking aloud, "Enchanting."

"What?"

Roman shook himself to awareness, abashed with how Virgil's brows had furrowed, "Nothing." he said quickly, "I was just saying that I'm doing _enchanting_." he nearly commended himself for the save.

Virgil's head tilted to the side, untethered hair gently sliding against his shoulder. "Right." Virgil said, tone giving way of his confusion— nonetheless, he looked amused.

Virgil was smiling, a mousy, small smile that had Roman's hands twitching. 

Roman clasped his hands behind his back, "So, how are _you_?" he asked, rocking on the balls of his feet. 

"Fine." Virgil answered simply, to which Roman hummed.

Nothing left to say, they stared at each other in silence. Tension quickly took root between them, stretched thin, but no less uncomfortable. Roman wanted to say something— anything to ease the suspense. He couldn't find it in himself to do so. All of his confidence was lost in Virgil's trepidatious gaze. 

Their stupor was shaken when a passing student spoke up about how inconsiderate they were for standing in the middle of the hall.

"Yeah, anyway." Virgil said, "I better bug out— I gotta get to Chem before Remus blows the classroom up."

Roman couldn't hold back his laugh, only hoping it didn't come out too loud. That was pushed away once Virgil smiled brighter, the furrow between his brows smoothing. 

Roman wanted Virgil to stay— to say Hell to courtesy and stay standing in the middle of the hall, just as they were. But Virgil had to get to class. 

Taking a step around him, Virgil added, "I'll see you in Gym?"

"Yeah," Roman nodded, probably with a lot more enthusiasm than needed, "yeah, see you."

Virgil smiled, lips pursed and uneasy, before taking his leave: whisked away with the crowd. Roman watched him go, the heat in his face slowly subsiding. A shove to his side and he realized he was still in the middle of the hall. He shuffled back over to the lockers, meeting his friends who were watching him raptly.

Elliot was the first to speak up, "Did you ask him out?" they asked, a little excitement tinging their words.

Valerie and Kai watched him with an equal amount of interest.

"What?" Roman questioned. His mouth fell open, "Shoot!" he exclaimed, near stomping his foot. Instead, his shoulders slumped, "I forgot…"

Valerie looked at him incredulously, "You _forgot_?"

"He looked at me!" Roman defended himself, throwing his arms up indignantly, "What was I supposed to do?" 

"I don't know," Kai said with a shrug, "talk?"

Roman groaned, pressing the heels of his hands to his forehead. Valerie gave him a sympathetic pat on his back.

"It's okay, man." Elliot consoled, "There's still the rest of school. You see him in Gym and in the halls— you can try asking him then."

"Yeah, it'll be fine." Valerie tried to soothe, "All you have to do is ask him."

Roman took that into consideration, assuring himself his cousin was right: he just had to open up and ask. Just ask Virgil out right. 

Easier said than done. 

The rest of the day went by with failure after failure. Roman stumbled and tripped over his words, Virgil's loose curls and pouty, full lips being too much for him. Every try at small talk left Roman floundering for words— in the end having to excuse himself, because forget _summer's day_ , Roman had to leave lest he compare Virgil's radiance to a starry night sky: Virgil's fair complexion leaving the moon to pale in comparison— each of Virgil's curls its own pinwheel galaxy— his deep eyes voids of shining stars, millions of them— twinkling and sparkling with mystery and intrigue.

Roman wanted to vanish, he botched his words so horrendously. Never had he thought that Roman Rivera would struggle so much with something so simple— for goodness sake, all he had to do was talk. 

He did talk— and he was really coming to regret it. 

It felt like each meeting was worse than the last, pushing Virgil farther and farther from him. 

In Gym, "You know, it's really amazing how you barely sweat— I know you don't really do anything, but it's still pretty incredible."

At the cafeteria's doors, "I've always wanted to try that spaghetti kiss scene from Lady and the Tramp. But I feel like it would be a lot messier in real life."

By the curb as Virgil waited for the guys, "I like your nose."

But Virgil— oh, patient Virgil, just nodded and smiled. He ignored Roman's peculiar behavior and left Roman to set the pace of their conversations. Which was nice as much as it was torture. 

And of course, there could only be so many failures in one day. Roman was left in drama club, sitting in the back behind the stage as he recuperated from his latest washout.

"Tough break." Kai said, tinkering away with some stage equipment.

Roman rolled his eyes, hunched over with his arms balanced on his knees, head in his hands. 

"At least the drive-in isn't until Friday." Elliot piped up, sitting cross legged on the ground as they dug through a pile of costumes.

"True." Roman said, "But I don't want to ask last minute— he might have plans by then."

"Or is already going to the drive-in with somebody else." Kai added.

Elliot shot him a warning look.

"Oh, God." Roman said, "What if he does already have a date for the drive-in— what if I ask him and he has to tell me himself? I would never be able to live with the—"

Elliot cut him off, reaching over and placing a hand on his knee, "Roman, calm down." they said, "You're not helping yourself by worrying like this."

Taking a deep breath, Roman nodded, "I know. You're right. I'm just…" he groaned, "Why does this have to be so difficult?"

Roman was doomed to being a halfwit in Virgil's eyes, for all eternity. Even if Roman was able to get the words out, why would Virgil say yes after Roman had solidified how obtuse he was? Especially when Virgil had nearly the entire school wondering if he was on the make. (He had been voted most eligible bachelor! _Twice_!) Out of everyone Virgil could go to the drive-in with, Roman would be at the bottom of the barrel, for certain. 

Roman sighed, rubbing his temples and reminding himself: _I won't know unless I ask._

"Elliot." 

The three perked up as Lauren approached the group.

She directed a smile at Elliot, apologetic and a little guilty, "Jessica ripped her witches cloak." she said.

Elliot sighed, grabbing their pincushion and thread before standing up, "Alright." they said, straightening their long skirt, "I'll be back."

Roman and Kai voiced their goodbyes as Elliot left.

"What were you guys talking about?" Lauren asked, sweeping her sandy blonde hair to the side and leaning against a wooden pillar.

"Roman's love trouble." Kai said, not looking up from his control panel.

Lauren's eyes snapped to Roman, a curious smile tugging her lips, "Love trouble?" she asked. 

Roman glared at the back of Kai's head, _Don't you dare, don't you dare, don't you—_

"He's trying to ask Virgil out, but can't." Kai filled in.

Roman groaned in defeat.

"Virgil?" Lauren said pensively, trying to recall the name. When she did, her eyes lit up, "Virgilious Agusta?" she grinned, turning back to Roman, "You have a thing for Virgilious Agusta?" she pressed.

Roman faltered, "I…" a part of him wanted to deny the accusation— though that was pointless, considering how straight to the point Kai was. And Roman had no qualms over Lauren, (though he never had to test his trust in her, before). He sighed before pointing a finger at her seriously, "You can not tell anyone."

She beamed. Zipping her lips and tossing the invisible key, she nodded, "My lips are sealed." she said, then went on, "You know, he's in my Algebra class. He's really nice— quiet and keeps to himself— but nice."

"He's wonderful." Roman lamented, head slumped in his hands.

Lauren giggled, "Ohh, seems like you got it bad."

Kai scoffed, " _Bad_ doesn't even begin to cover it."

Ignoring his friend, Roman sat up abruptly, leaning towards Lauren with unrestrained inquisitiveness, "How did Kai ask you out?" he questioned honestly.

Kai visibly stiffened while Lauren's grin grew. "He didn't." she quipped, "I had to ask him. He was too nervous."

Roman blinked. He then promptly fell into a fit of laughter. "He— he was too nervous?" he asked through his giggles.

Lauren hummed, "Yep. He was a mess— he literally _couldn't_ ask me."

"I could have!" Kai snapped at his girlfriend.

"When?" Lauren quired, "You couldn't ask me to borrow a pencil without stuttering."

Roman laughed harder, holding his sides as he leaned over. 

"Shut up!"

"Would you rather me wait until you grew a pair?"

Roman was practically keeling over from his laughter, nearly rolling on the floor.

"Whatever," Kai said, "I'm gonna check on Corbin with the mics." with that, he was stomping away from the pair, retreating to the sound booth.

Lauren joined Roman in his giggles, chortling in mirth as they watched Kai take his leave. 

Once calmed down enough, Roman turned to Lauren. He swallowed a lump in his throat before asking, "How did you do it?"

Not needing Roman to simplify, she shrugged, "I just went for it."

Roman nearly rolled his eyes. Everywhere he looked for advice always came up with the same answer— as if it were that simple, that mundane. Everyone told Roman to 'just go for it' and to 'just be himself'. It was starting to grate on Roman's resolve. 

Make a large banner with Virgil's name on it— that was more original. Leave love letters in Virgil's locker— that was more original. Write out 'date me?' in the sand— that was more original (even if they didn't live near a beach). They all felt easier, too. Less real. A lot less down to earth like everyone was expecting of him. (Though, a lot less likely to appeal to Virgil— who was skittish and abhorred large displays that would draw attention to him.) 

If he were to be open with Virgil, he would be _open._ There would be no telling what Roman would say— a monologue of Roman's ardent pining. The thought was mortifying, to say the least. 

As if reading into Roman's thoughts, Lauren added, "But it wasn't easy."

Roman looked up at her, dubious but still seeking guidance.

"I mean, I was nervous, too; Kai wasn't alone in that. But I knew I would regret it if I didn't at least try. I knew there was a chance that he would say no— and that was even when I _knew_ he liked me back. The thing is, you'll never really know what'll happen until you ask."

Roman bit his lip, eyes falling to the shine of his shoes. 

The advice was still the same— reasoned the same, as well. Yet… Roman felt more incentivized. The perspective was a good change, and he could see where Lauren was coming from. 

Roman already aware he wouldn't know what would happen until it happened— and he knew he only had to take action, and ask Virgil. And he was cognizant of how his talk with Lauren wouldn't do anything; nothing to truly 'light a fire under his ass' as Remus would put it, but it was still appreciated, all the same. It was nice to know he wasn't completely alone in the Languishing Loser club. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not to worry, roman still has a lot more fuck ups to go


	4. Ain't Nothing Like The Real Thing

* * *

"Fuck no!" Remus yelled, "You got your _Disney's Wonderful World_ time, now it's my turn!" he said as he yanked the TV remote from his brother's hands.

Roman scorned, reaching out to grab the stolen remote back, "Hush up!" he huffed in agitation as Remus snapped his arm to the side, effectively dodging Roman's grabby hands, "Like you're not always hogging it with your _Scooby-Doo_ marathons!" he threw his arms up in exasperation, "It's all the same! They split up and search for clues— Velma loses her glasses— the monster turns out to be an old guy in a mask." he crossed his arms, nose turned up in the air, "Talk about predictable."

Remus blew a raspberry indignantly, "Well, it's better than Disney, that's for sure."

Hand over his heart, Roman let out a series of offended gasps, voice cracking dramatically. "Take that back!" he screeched, sitting up on the couch as he prepared to attack his twin. "Hanna-Barbera's animations are cheap and lazy! Disney is revolutionary and—"

Another raspberry, spit flying from Remus' mouth as he mocked his brother, "Laaaame."

"That's it." 

Lunging forward, Roman tackled Remus to the ground. The twins rolled and tussled on the floor, shoving and swatting at each other as they fought over the remote. Roman had nearly won, having caught his brother in a headlock— however was thwarted once Remus gave him a wet willie.

"Ew!" Roman squealed, letting Remus go in favor of rubbing his ear with his shoulder, "You're vile!"

Remus merely shrugged, falling back on the couch and flipping the channel to _Scooby-Doo_ , just in time to watch Scooby and Shaggy swallow a double decker sandwich whole. 

Huffing, Roman was about to retreat back to his room, halting when his mother walked in.

"You two need to cut your bickering." she chastised, shifting the casserole in her hands so as to not drop it, "It's not that hard to get along."

"Yes, Mamá." the two said in unison.

She rolled her eyes, a fond smile on her face. "Yeah, yeah." she said, waving them off. "Now, Roman, be a dear and run this over to the Agustas, please?"

Roman's shoulders tensed.

"Ruh-roh, Raggy." Remus piped up from the couch.

Roman shot him a glare before turning back to his mother. "Wha— why can't Remus do it?"

The twins' mother pouted, staring up at her son with sad eyes, "Now, I thought you liked the Agustas."

"I do!" Roman assured, waving his hands, "I do like them, very much. It's just…" he trailed off, tangling his fingers in front of himself.

"Just _what_ , Roman?" Remus simpered, grinning at Roman annoyingly.

Roman narrowed his eyes warningly.

"Did something happen that you're not telling me about?" their mom asked, brow raised. 

"No." Roman said, shooting a pointed look at Remus. "Nothing at all." 

With that, Roman took the casserole from his mother's hands (listening when she said to be careful, it's still hot). He said and received his goodbyes (getting an extra, _exaggerated_ one from Remus) before slipping on his shoes and heading out.

The walk across the street was both too short and agonizingly long, his attention falling on every crack in the pavement, and every leaf or pebble he walked passed. He tried ignoring the racing in his chest, the loud, overbearing sound of his screaming heart. He was tempted to run and hide the casserole in one of Mrs. Carbuncle's topiaries, but shook the notion from his head, the idea doing him no good as he stood on the Agusta home's stoop. Oh God, he was standing just outside the Agustas' home.

Swallowing down his nerves, he raised a shaking hand to the doorbell. He paused, finger hovering over the button before he said _fuck it_ and pressed the damn thing. He then proceeded to internally panic as the bell went off. He should have ran when he had the chance, he should have made Remus do it— he should have stayed in his room and let his brother have the damn TV. 

Roman jolted as the doorknob clicked. He watched as it turned, the shiny, gold knob mocking him for his cowardice. He swallowed harshly, straightening his back and squaring his shoulders, he put on a front of confidence. 

The door opened, hinges quiet and the motion silent— a stark contrast to the one who opened it. One of the two Mr. Agustas beamed down at him. The man was very tall and very broad, able to sweep both his husband and his son up off the ground and twirl them around the front yard— Roman knew so as he had seen this happen a handful of times. 

"Hey there, kiddo!" Mr. Agusta exclaimed, "What can I do for you?" his eyes lit up, clapping his hands together, "Are you here for Virgil?" he asked.

Roman nearly choked at the last question, covering it up with a cough, "Hello, Mr. Agusta. I'm here to deliver this casserole my mother made for you." he said, handing said casserole out— choosing to ignore the last question.

(Coming over to see Virgil out of the blue, no warning or prompting— no invitation or request of presence, the thought was a pipe dream— and utterly insane.)

"Ohh! Thank you so much!" Mr. Agusta thanked, accepting the casserole graciously, "Give your mom our thanks!"

Roman nodded with a smile, "Will do."

"And no 'Mr. Agusta' talk. Just call me Patton." he added, waving a finger at Roman playfully.

"Oh, alright." Roman said, clearing his throat, "Thank you, Patton."

Patton grinned, opening the door further, "Would you like to say hi to Virgil?" he asked, stepping to the side and motioning into the house, "He's just in the other room."

Roman's stomach flipped, cheeks heating up dangerously fast, "I, uhm, I'd love to, but I—"

"Virgil! Come say hi to Roman!" Patton called before Roman could fully protest. "Mrs. Rivera sent us a casserole." he added, lifting it for emphasis, despite his son being unable to see it, "I'm gonna take this to the kitchen. Roman, would you like to come in?"

Roman shook his head, taking a step back— nearly tripping off the stoop, "I, uhm, as much as I'd like to— I have a lot of homework to get done and—"

"What did you say, Dad?" 

Roman's heart skipped at least two beats, eyes snapping to the figure that stood behind Mr. Agusta. The first thing Roman noticed was Virgil wasn't wearing his leather jacket— or his purple, plaid bandana. He looked naked without them; exposed and casual in his black tank top and purple lounge pants.

Virgil took notice of him around the same time, eyes meeting his— and _fuck_ Roman nearly melted underneath that intense gaze.

"Hey, Roman." Virgil gave him a nod, lips quirked in a friendly smile.

"Hi, Virgil." Roman said in turn, hoping his tone didn't come off too awestruck.

"Virgil, look, Mrs. Rivera made us a casserole! Isn't that sweet? Oh, Roman!" Patton turned back to him inquisitively, "Are you sure you don't wanna pop in for some cookies? I know how important school is, but it's always nice to take a breather. Wouldn't wanna push yourself too hard, kiddo." Mr. Agusta chided, all that of a caring father.

(Roman felt more than a little guilty for lying about his homework.)

"I, uhm." Roman was tempted to press his lie further, exetuate how vital it was to get his homework done right away— but then he spared another look in Virgil's direction. Virgil was leaning against the wall, hair pressed against the flat surface and leaving the rest to puff out like a dark mane. Arms crossed, he watched Roman intently, looking away when he caught Virgil's eye. "Sure— yes, that would be lovely."

"Great!" Mr. Agusta cheered, stepping aside and waving Roman in, "Come on in; make yourself at home!"

Roman gave a smile as he took a step inside, "Thank you, Mr— uh, Patton." 

Mr. Agusta laughed airly, shutting the door behind them and heading down the hallway, Virgil following behind. Roman lingered in the hall, debating whether or not he should take off his shoes— he decided against it, hurrying after the two. He followed them into the living room, a small but cozy space that was decorated neatly with framed photos and potted plants, baby blue carpet and pale orange walls.

"I'm just gonna put this away and get the cookies. Roman, you have a seat; I'll just be a moment." Patton said, nodding to the couch before pushing the kitchen's double acting door open with his hip, the door swinging behind him. 

"Do you want any help?" Virgil called after his father, to which he got a: "No, no! Sit down, finish watching your show!"

The show Patton was referring to was playing on the living room TV, though currently was on hold due to commercials. 

Virgil did as his father told him and took a seat on the couch, Roman nervously following his lead and sitting on the opposite end. He wished he could have been more daring, he should have sat on the middle cushion, which would have been a safe distance while simultaneously close to Virgil. _Too late, now_ , he internally grumbled to himself.

"Sorry about my dad." Virgil spoke up, looking at Roman apologetically, "He can get carried away."

(Roman had to take a second longer to process what Virgil had said, one reason being he was too busy chastising himself for sitting on the far end of the couch, and the other reason being: holy fuck, Virgil was starting a conversation with him.) "Oh, no, it's fine; he's great." Roman assured.

"Yeah. But he can be overwhelming sometimes; so I'm sorry if he comes on too strong, or something."

Roman shrugged, hoping he looked calm and collected as he did so, "I know he means well."

Virgil smiled, "He does."

Roman swallowed, eyes snapping to the TV, knowing if he had looked at Virgil's smile any longer, he wouldn't have been able to pry his gaze away. His attention went to the Garry Moore for SOS soap pads commercial that was on, definitely not watching Virgil in his peripheral. Try as he might, Roman couldn't fight himself and stole a few quick glances at Virgil when he was sure Virgil was focused on the Mystery Date ad that had started. 

Virgil looked so casual (if not a little tense, but Roman was sure to be blamed for that). In school everyone postulated Virgil as rugged while simultaneously soft, those assumptions not off at all. Roman knew Virgil well enough, he knew Virgil wasn't afraid to get dirty; he knew Virgil rough housed and carried on just as much as Remus, Remy and Janus. He knew Virgil helped his fathers out with the yard work with no arguing, not minding the mud and grime on his hands or upper arms… or how he had to wear shorts because it was so hot out— or how his hair would get slicked back, strands sticking to his neck from sweat— his face rosy, red from heat and exertion… Virgil panting and wiping the sweat from his forehead with his forearm. Virgil pulling his hair back into a small pony tail. Virgil bending over to pluck weeds, or Virgil reaching up to trim their tree— Roman shook himself from his wandering thoughts, pausing as he had to think back to what got him there. 

The point was, Virgil was rugged, yes, but no doubt soft. He always made sure to never hurt his friends when they wrestled; he more often than not shooed his parents from the yard work, taking it upon himself to do it; he was so selfless and kind and looking at Virgil from across the couch, it showed. With his tight, black tank top that was littered with holes and torn in places, and his purple, floral print lounge pants that were baggy around his legs, but hugged his ankles at the cuffs (his pants also hung loosely around Virgil's hips, that added with his tank top riding up, Roman could see a sliver of Virgil's underwear and a bit of skin— something that had his face on fire as he forced himself to not look, openly, at least).

A Camels cigarette commercial came on and Virgil shifted in his seat, folding his legs under himself to get more comfortable. Roman had never thought someone could look so elegant while sitting, which was preposterous of him, he realized, as he peered over at Virgil: taking in the way his legs were pulled up on the cushion, how he leaned against the arm of the couch, head propped in hand, his other arm laying loosely by his side. Virgil was gentle and lovely and _ugh_ , Roman should have sat on the middle cushion.

The last commercial ended and Virgil visibly perked up as the show resumed. It was endearing how Virgil put his full attention on the screen, _The Addams Family_ playing softly in the small and cozy living room. Roman had never actually watched an episode, but Remus had screened it on occasion. Roman was beginning to regret not sitting in with his twin when he had— completely missing out on a possible conversation starter. Or maybe… that could be used to an advantage.

Feeling bold and daring, Roman spoke up for the first time in what felt like hours, "I've never seen this show before." he said.

Virgil's head whipped to the side to face him, his curls bouncing with the motion, "Do you want me to change it?" he asked sincerely, sounding a little disappointed.

"No!" Roman rushed, shaking his hand, "No, no, I was just saying I haven't watched it— I'm sure it's good though! I've just never given it a chance…"

"Oh." was all Virgil said before looking back at the TV, curling in on himself a little.

Roman sighed quietly to himself, _Way to go— can't I just once say something right?_

"Would you…" Virgil started, turning back to Roman, though not meeting his eyes, "Do you want me to, uh, fill you in on it?" he asked, looking at Roman and fiddling with the drawstrings of his pants.

Roman had to restrain himself from yelling his enthusiasm, Virgil was initiating conversation! Roman took a subtle, deep breath before answering in his calmest voice he could muster, "Yeah! Yeah, that would be great."

And so Virgil explained the show thoroughly, going into detail talking about the characters dynamics and little tidbits about the show. Now, Roman had heard Virgil's tangents before, the way he would go on and how his face would light up when he talked about something he liked or was passionate about— but he had never been on the receiving end to any of those rants. He knew he had been missing out, but _really_ , he had been missing out. Virgil's dark eyes were bright and his smile would sometimes falter self consciously, but once Roman would nod and add his own subdued reassurance Virgil would brighten up— and, oh, mother of Mary Poppins, how _wonderful_ it was. 

What Roman wouldn't give to be the Gomez to Virgil's Morticia.

"You have a lovely smile." Roman heard himself saying before it was too late.

Virgil didn't seem affected by the sudden outburst, still grinning indifferently, "Thanks." he said, "And I have a nice nose, too, right?" he teased.

It was like every dream and nightmare came to life, hearing that teasing tilt to Virgil's voice as he looked at him like that: insouciant and playful.

Roman could only laugh awkwardly, "Yeah." he said, playing with his fingers, "I'm sorry about that."

Virgil chuckled, head resting in his hand as he laid back, much more comfortable than before, his legs draped across the couch (Roman _definitely_ regretted not sitting on the middle cushion, the possibility of Virgil dropping his legs across Roman's lap a missed opportunity— though an unlikely one), "It's fine, it was funny."

There was a swoop in Roman's stomach, recalling the reason for his God awful compliment ( _'_ _I like your nose', really?_ ): the drive-in. 

Roman and Virgil were alone, they had talked beforehand, Virgil was opening up to him— there was no better occasion to ask Virgil to the drive-in. 

Psyching himself up, Roman opened his mouth to speak, "Virgil," he said, getting his attention, "I, uhm…would you like to—"

"Sorry I took so long, kiddos!" Patton said, announcing himself, "The other Mr. Agusta called, asking if he needed to stop by The Piggly Wiggly to get something for dinner."

Roman tried not to feel too disappointed as Patton sat a tray of cookies on the coffee table, along with two tall glasses of milk, red and white striped Krazy Straws in each. 

"I hope you're not lactose intolerant!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in my au, og Scooby-Doo wasn't racist


	5. Come Go With Me

* * *

After Roman's milk and cookie time at the Agustas', he had been gushing at how well it went. Talking to Virgil was a dream— having him so enthusiastically express one of his interests was _heavenly._

He had stayed and watched the rest of _The Addams Family_ with Virgil, finding that he actually quite enjoyed the show (though that may have just been the company). When it had ended he stayed and watched _I Love Lucy_ , something Virgil was unfamiliar with, but Roman returned the gesture and filled him in. Virgil was a good listener, and he, too, found a new program he enjoyed. Even offhandedly saying how the show was 'pretty good'. 

Cookies reduced to leftover crumbs on a plate, and milk just a cloudy stain on the glasses, Roman didn't want to go home. So he stayed and offered to wash the plate and glasses they used, Patton had declined, but Roman was persistent. Which led to Roman washing the dishes as meticulously as possible, trying to go slow in order to prolong his and Virgil's talk. Virgil, who had leaned against the counter, dish towel in hand as he waited to dry them. 

But alas, all good things must come to an end, and Roman could only scrub a sparkling, clean glass for so long. 

That evening, Roman went home with a skip in his step, optimistic to the week that had yet to come— certain he had an evening at the drive-in with Virgil ahead of him.

That optimism didn't get him very far. Wednesday and Thursday went by horrendously, sure Roman managed to keep his voice leveled when speaking to Virgil, and he didn't embarrass himself _too_ much, he still was unable to successfully ask Virgil out. 

With his friends' pestering on coming up empty handed, and his brother's relentless teasing and awful shoving, Roman was left rather stressed.

All too soon came Friday afternoon, and Roman had failed in asking Virgil out.

It was well in the eighties, the neighborhood children riding up and down the street on their bikes, many congregated on the Agusta family lawn— currently invested in a game of freeze tag, which Remus was in on. Virgil occupied the driveway, just a little ways away, hands covered in oil as he worked on his early graduation present. Some kind of motorcycle, Roman wasn't too familiar with any form of mechanics, and had only heard second hand from Remus that it was a Knucklehead (if that was the bike's real name, or a nickname, Roman didn't know). What he did know, was that Virgil had been pouring most of his allowance into getting it up and running. 

On certain days, much like this one, Roman would get lucky and Virgil would be out working on it. Roman didn't always have a good excuse to linger outside and watch, so a lot of times he had to resort to sneaking peeks from the hallway window (perhaps Roman was being a little creepy— or a whole lot of creepy— which he tried to justify as _Well, maybe Virgil shouldn't look that good_ ). At that moment, Roman did have a valid excuse.

Roman and Valerie sat in the Rivera driveway, the garage open behind them, and the automatic door giving them shade. They each had a script open in their laps, the two of them going back and forth in reading lines. Roman struggled with such a normally easy task, spacing out wistfully in a certain somebody's direction.

Eventually, Valerie had shut her script and rolled her eyes, "We're only out here so you can gawk at Virgil." she accused, though there was no bite in her words.

Slumping back in his lawn chair, Roman sighed, "Can you blame me?" he asked, not bothering to deny it, gaze still locked onto Virgil. 

It was as if he was mocking Roman, clad in a pair of his sinfully-short shorts and an oversized Knott's Berry Farm t-shirt that threatened to slip off his shoulder.

How blessed (and simultaneously cursed) Roman was to be gifted with such a sight, having just fantasized about something similar earlier in the week. 

Ebony curls tied back loosely, locks framing his face and strands sticking up every which way. He was too far away to see for sure, but Roman could just make out the red that painted Virgil's face from the heat. (Roman vaguely hoped he wouldn't get sunburned, Janus wasn't around to give out aloe vera.) 

Roman wished he could fully enjoy the sight, too preoccupied in his woeful mourning to do so. He has had all week, _all week_ to ask Virgil to accompany him to the drive-in. It was just hours away, and what was Roman doing? He was slouched back in a lawn chair, watching his neighbor like a creepy stalker. 

"What's the point of having such powerful feelings for someone, when all you get back is heartache?" Roman questioned aloud, face set in a scowl, anger at himself for not having enough courage.

Roman could get up— nothing was stopping him from getting up and crossing that street. He could ask Virgil— all he had to do was walk over there and ask him. 

Valerie gave him a funny look, "Huh?"

Roman sighed, "Val, have you ever yearned before?"

His cousin shook her head with a smile, "Can't say I have. Not like you mean, at least."

"I have—"

"I know—"

"Oh, how I yearn." Roman whined, "How I yearn to reach out and take his hand in mine. To tell him how radiant he looks in this late afternoon sun." he reached a hand out to the sky, as if he could grasp a hold of the sun and present it to Virgil.

Seeing Virgil move out of the corner of his eye, Roman looked back to him. Virgil was no longer crouched down by the bike, but was standing with his arms crossed, talking to Remus from across the yard. Standing up, Virgil's legs were on better display. Virgil was quite short, and had very pale, shapely legs— from the curves of his thighs to his calves. His pale skin was streaked with oil from the motorcycle, a stark contrast in color. Yet again, Roman wished he was closer— Virgil was smiling and shaking his head as he talked to Remus, and Roman could only imagine how pretty he must look with his dimples and sparkling eyes.

Roman threw a hand out, gesturing toward Virgil in an almost wild way, "Look at him and tell me he's not gorgeous." he said, turning to Valerie in anguish. "But don't lay it too heavy or I'll get jealous." he added.

Valerie laughed and nodded, "Yeah, he's choice alright."

Roman sat up in his chair, turning to fully face his cousin, "I knooooow." he drawled in a groan, "God, it's like he _doesn't_ know how gorgeous he is. I swear, it's insane how he doesn't see it— I mean, he has to look in a mirror at least every day."

Valerie only nodded. Her smile faltered, eyes flickering to the side, "Uhm, Roman." she whispered, going unheard as Roman went on vehemently.

"Whenever our eyes meet, my heart aches in longing— each time a little more than the last." he said, hand over his heart.

"Roman." Valerie tried again, her tone a low warning.

"When he smiles," Roman sighed dreamily, "my knees shake and I go light headed. When he laughs, nothing else in the world seems to matter— like everyone in the room vanishes—"

"Roman!" she hissed.

"And my name." Roman's eyes fluttered shut, letting himself fall back in seat again, "the way he says my name just—" 

"Hey, Roman. What play is that from?" a familiar, soft and smoky voice asked.

Roman yelped, jumping in his chair like a spooked animal.

"We were just freestyling." Valerie, bless her heart, said in a tremendous save.

Both Virgil and Valerie's attention turned to Roman, whose jaw was agape as he stared up at Virgil in an odd mixture of awe and fear.

Virgil's rosy cheeks. Virgil's saturated curls that were plastered to his forehead and turned up against his neck. Virgil's dark and vibrant eyes boring into Roman's soul. 

"You're really good." Virgil complimented with a soft smile.

Roman's brain just about short circuited.

"Thank you." Roman said, not having the heart to tell him it wasn't an act. He cleared his throat, hoping to deflect the conversation, "So, what brings you over here?" he asked.

"Right." Virgil said, "Remus told me to grab your mom's toolbox. He said he wanted to show me a 'two-way blunt head screwdriver'." he rolled his eyes, "Whatever that is."

Roman quickly looked over to Remus, who was giving him a thumbs up— before promptly being yelled at for moving during freeze tag. 

_Damn you, Remus. Damn you to the pits of Hell._

"Of course!" Roman exclaimed, shooting up from his chair and nearly knocking it over.

He led Virgil into the garage, willing his legs not to shake as he did so. (Even if he did fall over, he would blame it on the strong smell of gasoline.) 

It didn't take long to find the toolbox, reaching up to the shelf, Roman grabbed it, and for whatever reason, decided to make small talk, "So… how's it going?"

"Good." Virgil said, "Hopefully I can get the Knucklehead running before winter comes."

"Oh?" Roman said, shifting the weight in his arms, "Why's that?"

"I wanna take it out while it's fall." Virgil shrugged, "You know? When the weather is nice, warm but breezy. The leaves changing color, the red and oranges. I really wanna take it out on Abbotswell, where there's not much traffic and the road is lined with trees…" Virgil trailed off, face going redder than it already was.

"Yeah…" Roman breathed, hugging the toolbox to his chest.

Virgil ducked his head, "Anyway…"

"Oh, right." Roman handed him the toolbox, "Here you go."

"Thanks." Virgil said before turning away.

Roman's chest ached and he couldn't stop himself from reaching out, "Uh— I," his hand quickly dropped as Virgil faced him again, watching Roman curiously. What Roman wanted to say was goodluck, _goodluck on fixing the Knucklehead, I hope it starts up before fall._ What came out instead was, "There's a drive-in tonight at nine. Do you— do you maybe wanna go?"

On the inside he was screaming. He had done it. Holy fuck, he had asked Virgilious Agusta to go to the drive-in with him. His heart was bursting with pride and relief— relief that was short lived when he remembered Virgil hadn't said anything yet.

"Tonight?" Virgil asked, "With you?"

Roman swallowed the lump in his throat, "Yeah."

"The one at Saddle Creek?"

"Yeah."

"Will Remus be there?"

"Yeah." Roman paused, teeth digging into the inside of his cheek. "No— there— uhm." he internally swore to himself, a chorus of anxious and angry curses targeted to himself. And to make matters worse, "You can ask Remy and Janus if they wanna come, too." _Stop talking! Stop fucking talking, damn it!_

Virgil, completely oblivious to Roman's dilemma, simply nodded, "Cool." he said, "I'll ask my dads about it and get back to you."

Roman smiled, the feeling fake and strangled, "Cool… cool."

"Alright. See you later." Virgil gave a little salute, and Roman watched as he walked down the driveway, getting smaller as he made his way back to his house.

Only when Virgil was out of earshot did Valerie jump up and crowd him, "I heard everything. Oh my God, Roman, you moron!" she chastised, "What did you do!"

"I know! I know!" Roman yelled back, "I panicked, okay?" he dragged a hand down his face, suddenly very exhausted, "God, what did I do?"

His dream date, the perfect first outing with Virgil— completely soiled. Not only would the two of them not be alone— not a date _at all_ — but it would just be a hangout of close friends, with Roman tagging along helplessly. He wouldn't be able to get close to Virgil— let alone hold his hand! He would be stuck following his brother around, with no one else to talk to. Why would Virgil want to talk to Roman, when he had the company of his best friends? It wasn't like it was going to be a _date_ or anything, after all. It was going to be a trip among friends… plus Roman.

"You messed up," Valerie supplied, "that's what you did."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was gonna do more with Virgil /getting/ the knucklehead, but couldn't really find a way to worm it in at this point. but I'll probably do a short family fluff of Virgil's dads giving it to him. also, the bike is a 1936 harley-davidson el knucklehead


	6. Crimson And Clover

* * *

Moping and whining and complaining was how Roman spent the next hour. The one after that was spent frantically digging through his closet and dresser drawers, tossing every article of clothing on to his bed for critical inspection. After _another_ hour of that, he decided on a pair of slacks, a white form fitting t-shirt and a red denim jacket over top. He spent a critical amount of time looking in the mirror, brushing nonexistent dirt off of himself and placing every hair on his head in place— before deciding he should take a shower and start his hair from scratch. 

Which led to Roman standing outside the bathroom door, banging his fist on the wooden surface. "C'mon, Remus, hurry up!" he shouted, pounding on the door once more.

"Hold your horses!" Remus called for the umpteenth time, along with the sound of something falling over.

Roman banged on the door again, "You better not be using my Brylcreem!" he yelled.

"I won't touch your precious hair gel!" Remus nagged back, followed by more clutter falling and hitting the floor.

"I mean it!" Roman warned.

"Yeah, yeah." Remus said, and Roman could practically see him rolling his eyes through the door.

Roman opened his mouth to snark back, only the bathroom door swung open— Remus finished with the bathroom at last.

Relief didn't last long, Roman's nose scrunching up as he was hit with a hot wall of steam and the _awful_ smell of Remus' cologne. When Roman was able to get past that, he critically took in his brother's appearance: his mullet was sopping, dripping water all over his Hawaiian shirt, his face was littered with little bits of toilet paper from where he nicked himself with a razor, and… wait, Remus shouldn't have been taller than Roman. Snapping his eyes down, Roman quickly took notice of the pair of bright green go-go boots Remus was sporting.

Roman sighed, dragging his hands down his face in anguish, "And please," he begged, "please, _please_ don't embarrass me tonight." hands clasping in front of his chest, he gave his brother a pleading look.

With a big toothy grin, Remus shook his head, "I think you'll handle that on your own." he said, clapping Roman's shoulder as he walked by, the heels of his boots deaf against the hall's shag carpet.

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?" Roman demanded, spinning around to face his twin with a glare. 

Remus shrugged, "Just that you can't talk to Virgil for shit."

Letting out a series of offended, stuttering gasps, Roman jabbed a finger at his brother, "I'll have you know, Virgil and I have had _multiple_ riveting discussions this past week." his nose turned up in pride and temerity, "You're just never there for any of them."

At that, Remus grinned, "I will be this time." he said.

"Unfortunately." Roman grumbled.

"Hey! I'm a delight!" 

"Ugh!" Roman threw his hands up, "This was supposed to be me and Virgil's first date." his shoulders slumped as he held his head in his hands, "But I blew it."

A hand on his shoulder implored him to look up, "Don't worry about it." Remus said, "I got you."

"That's more worrying than reassuring." Roman said, genuine nervousness creeping into his voice.

Remus waved him off, about to step into his room before turning around again, "Oh, yeah." he said, stopping Roman from closing the bathroom door, "Forgot to tell you, Remy's picking us up at seven."

" _What_?" Roman screeched.

"Yeah, we're stopping by The Spinning Whisk for dinner before the movie." Remus said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world— as if it was something Roman should have _already known_ , "You should probably bring your wallet." Remus added, shutting his bedroom door with a click.

A speedy shower and plenty of fussing over his hair later, Roman was sitting on the front stoop by his brother, anxiously waiting for their ride— that was six minutes late. 

"We could have waited inside." Remus complained, "It's still hot out."

Roman lazily looked to his side, "Then why did you put on your leather jacket?"

"Because I look good in it." Remus said matter of factly.

Roman didn't bother to rebuttal.

He twiddled his thumbs in his lack of patience. All week he had been looking forward to that night, though the added guests put a damper on the mood, Roman wouldn't let that deter him. It was still a night with Virgil, and if he managed to get a moment like he did when they watched _The Addams Family_ he could go home overjoyed. That was really all he wanted, time with Virgil. Just the two of them would have been preferred, definitely; but beggars can't be choosers, he supposed.

Roman would make the most of it, time with Virgil was still time with Virgil— and that didn't happen as often as he wished it did. So Janus, Remy, and _Remus_ — he shot a quick (unnoticed) glare to his brother— would be there, Roman could handle it.

The tell tale sound of a roaring engine, squealing tires, and the muffled sound of a blaring radio alerted the twins of their ride. Remy's Buick twisted around the corner hazardously, threatening to go off road as the tires burned rubber. Roman shuddered as the car screeched to a stop in front of their house. 

Remus jumped up from his seat, running through the yard to get to the Skylark. Roman only grimaced at the sight of him running in heels for a short moment, his displeasure shifting to himself as he stood up and followed his brother. Due to Remus' running, Roman had to do a silly half-jog up to the car. 

Standing on the curb, all indignation twisted into flustered chagrin. Virgil sat in his usual spot on the backseat, leaning back with one arm draped across the back of the seat, and his other resting on the passenger door. Unlike Roman, who had gone through all the trouble of looking his utmost best— Virgil remained in his oversized water park t-shirt and his small, purple shorts.

Knowing he shouldn't stare too long and drag out an unwanted silence, Roman took a deep breath and willed himself to speak, "Hi, Virgil." Roman gave a small wave, his hand shaking in the process.

In turn, Virgil smiled his heart stopping smile, full, upturned lips and the cutest dimple gracing his features.

"Yeah. Hi, Virgil." Remus said, "And hi, Janus. And hi, Remy." he waved to the other two with over the top enthusiasm.

Roman's ears grew hot in agitation as he forced himself to not shoot a miffed glare at Remus. 

Virgil snorted a short laugh, hand raising to give a lazy salute before resting back on the seat, "Hey, guys." 

Remy and Janus voiced their own hellos as well, thankfully none of them seeming put off by Roman's presence.

Not knowing what he was supposed to do next, Roman stayed rooted in place, face turned to Remus to silently watch for guidance. Remus stepped up to the front passenger door, pulling it open and being met with a raised brow from Janus.

"What are you doing?" Janus asked evenly.

"I wanna sit up front." Remus said simply, "Scoot over."

"Yes, of course I'll do that." Janus rolled his eyes, "Just sit in the back."

"There's a middle seat for a reason!" Remus retorted, squeezing himself in beside the other, "Just unbuckle and scoot over."

"Just sit in the back!"

"Fine! Let me crawl over you then!"

While the two of them bickered and shoved one another, Roman took it upon himself to slide into the back seat, shutting the door and situating himself by the window. Buckling his seatbelt, he chanced a glance to Virgil, whose attention was on the brawl taking place in the front. Roman took the opportunity to look over him, it being one of the rare moments they were so close to each other— even closer than they were on Virgil's couch. Not to mention how near Virgil's hand was: with his arm stretched across the back of the seat, his hand was so _close_ to Roman.

The front passenger audibly slammed before the one beside Roman abruptly opened. "Scoot over." Remus said, impatiently shoving Roman's shoulder.

Roman fumbled with the seat's buckle, Remus' chiding not helping with his jittery fingers at all. With a huff, Roman slid into the middle seat— much too aggressively, his leg jerking as he came into contact with Virgil.

Roman's eyes shot over to Virgil on their own accord— he had just touched Virgil. Fuck, fuck, fuck; he just made fleeting, physical contact with Virgil. And Virgil was looking at him, face unreadable and smile so obviously _not there_ and Roman couldn't help but feel like he was in the wrong. He did touch Virgil, after all. He touched him— God, every thought in his head was racing and reeling and—

"You okay?" Virgil asked, shaking Roman from his stupor.

"Huh?" Roman responded dumbly.

Virgil's tired, dark eyes watched for a short while, then promptly blinked and looked elsewhere. "You were just spacing out." he shrugged.

Roman opened his mouth to speak, but was cut short by Remus' booming voice, "Buckle up, Roro; unless you wanna fly out of the car and hit the pavement."

Face hot, Roman buckled his seatbelt, not really paying attention to Remy's exclamation of being a 'damn good driver'. He was too focused on the shaking of his hands; his terrible, tempestuous closeness to Virgil; the fleeting, jolting feeling of Virgil's bare leg against his slacks; Virgil's soft, baritone voice speaking to him in an undertone just as his buckle clicked into place.

"You sure you're okay?" Virgil asked, head tilted, a frown tugging his lips— oh, how Roman wanted to kiss that frown away. "I— I don't mean to pry… it's just… you look really uncomfortable."

"I'm fine!" Roman rushed, much louder than intended (if Remy turning around and glancing back at them was any indication), "Really, I'm just… it's just really hot out, y'know?"

"Oh, okay." Virgil said and lifted his arm off the back of the seat, letting it sit loosely by his side.

Roman didn't even have a chance to fully comprehend how Virgil's arm had been practically _around him_ , his thought process going to panic as Remy pulled away from the curb— going from zero to thirty and throwing Roman back against the upholstered seat. 

He finally understood why they always had the radio turned up so loud, the wind whipping past them roughly, muffling any noise. Still, Remus and Remy hollered and carried on, Janus and Virgil adding in their own biting remarks on occasion. Roman stayed quiet, not wanting to disrupt the friends' easy flowing banter. Even if he wanted to, he didn't think he could— the wind blasting his face uncomfortably, eyes watering and face scrunched up.

Thankfully, The Spinning Whisk wasn't too far away, and before Roman knew it Remy was slamming on the brakes and easing into the parking lot. Roman was blinking the tears from his eyes just as Remy swung into a parking spot. 

With the billowing wind replaced by the gentle breeze— that _wasn't_ caused by reckless driving— Roman was able to take in his surroundings. He had been to The Spinning Whisk before, the drive-in diner being a go-to place for after school performances, or sometimes the drama club would go together after rehearsals. The food was good, and the customer service as well. Though it was never on the list for possible places to take Virgil for a date; it was a little too tacky, in Roman's opinion. He was starting to second guess writing the place off, seeing how Virgil enthusiastically put in a good word (or a few) for their Glazed Clover Sauce (going so far to argue with Janus, who said it was _just_ honey and barbeque sauce with bits of bacon mixed in). 

Their waitress rolled up to the car shortly, clad in rollerblades, with a notepad and pen at the ready. It being a small town, it was assumed they knew the menu— inasmuch, presumed they had a good idea of what they wanted.

Turning down the car's radio, Remy was the first to order, "Yeah, I'm gonna get a Jumbo Whisk Burger and a small fry; please and thank you, hun." 

The waitress nodded, jotting the order down.

"I'll have the same thing," Remus chimed, "but large fries— don't cheap out on the fries." he said seriously, "If I asked for a large— and I get so much as a medium, so help me—"

"Can I have a Junior Whisk Burger and a small fry, please?" Roman interrupted, nudging Remus in the side harshly. "Oh, and a few packets of Glazed Clover Sauce."

The waitress' pen faltered for a beat before scribbling that down, too.

"And I would like a Junior Whisk Burger, chicken tenders, and two small fries. And throw in some Glazed Clover Sauce, too, please." Janus added, "That's all, thank you."

Roman frowned.

"Okay," the waitress nodded before reading off the orders, "And what about drinks?" she asked.

Once everyone listed off their requested drinks, the waitress spun around and rolled back into the small building that served as a kitchen.

Quietly, Roman turned to Virgil, and in a hushed tone he asked, "Did you not want anything?" which was a stupid question— of course Virgil wanted something.

All that time Roman thought the others were decent human beings. He genuinely thought they were close to Virgil, best friends even. Yet they forgot about him. Completely disregarded his existence while Virgil sat in the backseat, visibly curled up close against the door. 

Virgil's face grew a heavy flush (that Roman refused to acknowledge as pretty— because it was time to be angry, not soft over how beautiful Virgil was), "I did— I—" Virgil ducked his head and lowered his voice, "Janus ordered for me." he muttered.

Roman blinked, "Oh."

Roman vaguely recalled how Janus had asked for Glazed Clover Sauce— the very same sauce he said he didn't care for. Roman felt like slapping himself. 

Virgil fiddled with the bandana around his neck uncomfortably, "I don't like… talking, I guess." he said, then backtracked, "I mean, I can talk. It's just— stuff like ordering food, y'know? Uhh, all that customer service stuff makes me…" he waved his hand, "wig out."

Roman _really_ felt like slapping himself. 

Roman nodded in understanding, "That's cool— I mean fine! I was just— I wanted to make sure you weren't… left out, or, like, ignored. And— and I'm not judging you, or anything. If you don't want to talk to people— or _can't_ talk to people— that's perfectly okay and… uhm… I support you?" ( _And I could spend my whole life ordering your food for you_ , he added on silently).

Virgil snorted, "Thanks." he said softly, the red in his face only increasing.

"So," Remy spoke up, "what're we going to see? All I know is we're going to watch a movie, and none of you thought to fill me in on _what_ that movie is."

Roman actually didn't know, with all of his excitement he forgot to find out what movie was playing. He scolded himself for not finding out such vital information.

Surprisingly, it was Remus who informed them, " _A Bucket of Blood_." he said.

Naturally, it was a horror film. Roman had a feeling he was going to be the only one to not enjoy it. How could he, with a title like that? Buckets of blood. . .Roman hoped those buckets' contents were filled up off screen.

Virgil straightened up beside him, brushing down his bandana from when he bunched it up, "I heard it's funny." he supplied.

"It better be." Remy chided.

While waiting for their food, they all went on to talk about the drive-in, including topics such as snacks at the concession stand, finding a good parking spot, and what time they should start driving. Roman was able to chime in and add on to the chat, only ever faltering when he caught Virgil's eyes, or when Virgil would speak to him directly— other than that, he was perfectly fine. Janus and Remy were actually fun to talk to, and made easy conversation (much to Roman's relief).

Then came the food and everyone dished out each others' orders accordingly. Roman tried Glazed Clover Sauce and genuinely liked it, to which he told Virgil, and then savored how his eyes lit up. Remus muttered something along the lines of _kiss ass_. Roman elbowed him harshly in the side, his twin choking on a fry right after. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter will finally be the actual drive-in


End file.
